


she smelled of daisies, she drive me crazy

by moonmotels



Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse, American Horror Story: Coven
Genre: F/F, the morning after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:54:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23248795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonmotels/pseuds/moonmotels
Summary: misty + cordelia + the morning after she comes home
Relationships: Misty Day/Cordelia Foxx | Cordelia Goode
Comments: 15
Kudos: 106





	she smelled of daisies, she drive me crazy

Cordelia feels golden sunlight on her skin before she even opens her eyes, the streaming beams of warmth sending the most delightful feeling to the pit of her stomach. She feels good. Secure. Momentarily happy in the cesspool of drama she lives in.

Then - there’s a shift in the bed next to her. The side that’s usually empty and cold. It makes Cordelia freeze for a moment, and then there is the softest of sleepy murmurs coming from said companion. Tentatively; in case this is a dream in which she’d never like to wake, Cordelia opens her eyes.

When her gaze lands upon the most divine being God has ever created, she almost cries. It’s like seeing the world with new eyes. It’s feeling so stupidly in love that you could scream from the rooftops. It’s being so incredibly happy that she’s here, and she’s home, that you could just die. This feels like the morning after you’ve made love all night, knowing full well you’d been falling in love the entire time.

Cordelia doesn’t do anything that drastic. Instead, she lifts one cautious hand and brushes away a lock of messy, unkempt hair. Doing so, Misty stirs gently and comes back to the land of living. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she takes in her surroundings for only a second before flailing, scaring both herself and Cordelia. 

“Hey,” Cordelia retracts her hand quickly as if burned, “It’s just me. I’m sorry. It’s only me.”

Misty stops thrashing, the sheets tangled below her waist making it hard for her to calm down. “Cordelia?” she asks, her voice small and weak.

“Yes, I’m here,” Cordelia snaps her fingers and the sheets fall to the wooden floor. “It’s okay.”

“Oh, God,” Misty breathes. “M’ so sorry. Had the worst dreams all night.” Tentatively, she places her head back down on the cool pillow and inhales deeply, trying to ground herself.

Forcing herself not to cry, especially this early in the morning, Cordelia reaches out again, this time intertwining her fingers with Misty’s. The touch is friendly, not at all laced with anything more, but she still fights back a shiver when Misty clutches at her fingers tighter. “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” Misty furrows her brow, “feels awful weird though.”

“Being here?”

_With me?_

“Yeah,” she nods, “It feels like some fucked up dream, y’know?”

Cordelia makes an affirmative sound, casting her gaze down. Misty’s bare legs poke out from under the shirt she’d slept in, and Cordelia feels an embarrassing tingle run down her spine. Snapping her eyes back up, she’s met by baby blues that study her cautiously.

“Are you real? You’re really here?”

Leaning in so Misty can feel her face, mapping it with her thumb as if saving it to memory, Cordelia expels a large breath. “I’m real. You’re real.”

Misty gives her a crooked grin, and then she is coming closer, her lips parting and eyes closing and -

There’s a loud knock at the door.

“Cordelia? The girls want to know if it’s okay they run down to the French Market for coffee and beignets.” Zoe, one of Cordelia’s admittedly favorite students, has the most god awful timing. 

Giving Misty the most apologetic of looks, Cordelia slips from the warm bed and shuffles into her slippers. Cracking the door so only a sliver is visible, Cordelia says, “Good morning,” and then, “yes, that’s fine. Make sure they check in with you every twenty minutes.”

“Cool,” Zoe brightens up, “I’ll tell them.” As she turns down the hallway, she looks back and tosses a casual, “Tell Misty I said hey and welcome back.”

Cordelia shuts the door.

Misty is reclined on her bed, looking like an absolute vision, and for a moment, Cordelia cannot bring herself to say anything. She is reduced to nothing, merely a vessel of emotion and longing for the divine being in her line of sight.

Then, out of nowhere, the dream speaks. “I’m sorry, Delia, I’ll go.”

“Wait a second,” Cordelia says, watching Misty leave the bed and fumble for her few belongings. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t want people to talk ‘bout you. About this,” she gestures between the two of them. Tilting her head to the side, she continues, “You’re the supreme, don’t wan’ anyone gettin’ the wrong idea.”

“Wait,” Cordelia repeats, “I don’t care. Let them talk.”

Misty smiles fondly. “You gotta keep up a reputation, don’t ya?” Slipping past Cordelia, she swats her playfully on the arm and cracks the door back open. “‘Sides, reckon I have a whole lotta catchin’ up to do around here.”

When she is gone, Cordelia crumples to the floor and cries.

Having Misty back feels like a fever dream. Cordelia can touch her and hold her, can breathe in her unique scent of wildflowers and patchouli, but what she can’t do is _have_ her. For every second that Misty was dead and gone, another cell in her body succumbed to the relentless tug of falling in love without a body to hold at night. Now that Misty is back and she is whole - Cordelia is caught in a whirlwind of equal parts excitement and nausea. Being in love with Misty is one thing but being in love without the reciprocated feelings is another. Cordelia almost feels sick, thinking it was easier being in love when Misty was gone. At least the one-sided emotion didn’t have the forthcoming ability to be ruined by rejection.

Telling her would just ruin things. It would damage a short-lived, chaotic and untimely friendship. For now this is what they need, a slow moving repairment of their relationship. Keeping things friendly and civil is what Misty deserves.

In the kitchen, Misty peaks her head around the corner before fully entering, making sure the coast is clear. She’s not particularly fond of being gawked at or fawned over; unless it’s from Cordelia, so the empty kitchen with its rainbow beams of light from high windows is a welcomed atmosphere. Peering in the fridge, she finds all the ingredients to make a sandwich when a loud squeal fills the room.

Dropping the jar of mustard in surprise, Misty watches as it rolls like a quarter and hits the feet of who she can only presume to be Coco.

“Oh my God,” the immaculately dressed blonde squeals, “it’s really you.”

“Me?” 

“This is amazing, Cordelia always talked about you but it’s so weird seeing you in person.”

“Cordelia talked about me? To you?” Misty sets her items down and allows herself to be tugged towards the kitchen island.

“Let me hug you,” Coco says, pulling her in before Misty can even nod. “God, you’re even prettier than Cordelia described you.”

Misty can only manage to mumble a thank you in reply. Coco is overwhelming - but also very sweet and incredibly fresh to be around. Rotting away in hell will make you feel so disgustingly drained, but Coco seems to reinvent the light behind her eyes. (Cordelia reinvigorates her soul - the invisible parts of Misty that only she is privy of seeing.)

“You’re so pretty,” Coco says again, and Misty ducks her head to hide her blush. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here last night to greet you home.”

Home. That’s a word Misty is still getting used to. She’s never had such a thing, not even at her shack. That was more of a shelter, a place to live out her days and hide away from the repugnant society that deemed her unworthy of living in it. Here, though, this big house filled with laughter and liveliness and _Cordelia_ , is most definitely a home. Misty likes the idea of that. She likes a lot of things about that.

“It’s okay, I didn’t really wanna make a big fuss. I’m not that special.”

Coco purses her lips, shaking her head back and forth. “Oh, honey, you have no idea how special you are.”

Misty blinks at her.

“Anyway, I am really sorry for not being here.”

“S’okay, what were you up to?”

“This god awful Tinder date. He took me back to his apartment and there was women’s shampoo in his shower, like does he think I’m fucking stupid? I mean, like, of course I still slept with him but its principle, you know?”

Misty chews on a pear that was set in the bowl between them. Swallowing, she asks, “Tinder?”

“Shit, yeah, I forgot you haven’t been around for a while. Tinder is basically this app that just lets you match with people and then hook up.”

“‘Hook up’?”

Coco looks at her with an incredulous expression. “You never used dating apps to find someone to bang?”

“I don’t even own a phone. I used Cordelia’s phone to play games before, you know those cute lil’ ones where you work in a pet shop or some dumb shit?” Misty can feel herself getting excited, trying to reign that in as Coco looks on in horror.

“You have _so_ much to learn from me.”

Misty breaks into an infectious grin, finally knowing she has an actual friend to spend time with. One that doesn’t give her untamable butterflies or send waves of indulgent love through her system every time they brush together or look at each other. 

“Think I’d really like that.”

The pair eat lunch together, Coco using the time to gossip about other girls and fill Misty in on the most important aspects of what she missed. 

Misty can feel herself becoming more comfortable by the second, her old self slowly breaking free from the shell of torture and trauma that surrounds her soul. Recognizing a pair of footsteps, she turns her head just as Cordelia breezes into the kitchen. Stopping in her tracks, the room around them fizzles into obscurity. This happens often, they share a look and something changes - as if there is no one in the world but the two of them. 

“Hi,” Cordelia says gently, intimacy and longing painting her words, “I was looking for you.”

Misty feels the pit in her stomach lodge deeper. “Me?”

“Yes, I wanted to see what you’re doing today. I have a few errands to run, but I can make time for you, if you’d like.”

The thing is - Cordelia would absolve this coven if it meant spending simply one uninterrupted hour with Misty.

“What errands?” Coco interrupts.

Cordelia finally looks at Coco as if she just realized she’s there. “I, um - need to grocery shop and tend to the garden out back, plus go over new applicants and review paperwork.”

“Let me take her shopping,” Coco jerks her thumb towards Misty. “She could go for some fresh air. Send me the list.”

Eyeing the two of them up suspiciously for a moment, Cordelia seemingly relents. “Okay, that’s fine I suppose. Is that alright with you, Misty?”

“Sure is.”

There’s a strain between this interaction that has Misty feeling unstable, as if balancing on the edge of a cliff. She wants to run into Cordelia’s arms and kiss her senseless and declare that she is hers, forever, but she can’t do that. Not now. The timing is off. It’s always off.

Coco takes Misty’s hand and leads her towards the door to the driveway, tossing back a casual, “Send me some money, too!” as Cordelia simply watches them leave.

The first thing Coco does at the store is fight with an old man over a parking spot closest to the door. By the time Coco loses the fight, Misty is bent over in laughter that makes her stomach hurt. Everything feels so nice; the ability to breathe in fresh air, the sound of other people, Coco’s palm resting gently on her thigh. 

Inside the market, Coco instructs Misty to push the cart while reading off Cordelia’s obscenely long grocery list.

“Jesus, are we feeding an entire fucking country?”

“She probably told ya to get extra ‘cause I’m back,” Misty grins, “I’m a bottomless pit.”

“That’s funny, out of all the things Cordelia said about you, that was not one of them.”

Misty lifts a bag of rice on the bottom of the cart, standing and swiping her dress off. “Did Cordelia talk ‘bout me a lot?” She tries to play it off casually, sounding nonchalant, but fails at it. She’s not good at a lot of things when it comes to Cordelia.

Coco checks another item off the list, biting the cap of her pen in seriousness. Without looking up, she replies, “All the fucking time. I almost didn’t believe you were real until Zoe confirmed.”

“What sorta things did she say?” she presses. 

When Coco points to a box of family sized cheerios, Misty lifts that into the cart too. “Um, well, mostly just what you were like. What y’all did together, how much she missed you. That sorta shit.”

Misty senses there is much more to the story, but drops the subject when Coco begins describing her powers in great detail over a bag of granola mix. Nodding and murmuring her praise at the correct times, Misty lets her mind wander to what else Cordelia could have possibly said about her. It’s natural she missed her of course, but what specifically is the nagging question. The feeling she evoked deep within, the way she left hair everywhere, the muddy footprints that climbed the staircase every evening? It hurts not knowing what Cordelia missed most, because Misty would give her all that and more if she were able. 

Unable to stop herself, Coco reaches a breaking point in her story and huffs, “Listen, I can’t say much, but you should know Cordelia _really_ cares about you,” she emphasizes this, “and it’s not my place to say anything, so you should talk to her yourself, okay? Zoe already yelled at me not to meddle.”

Misty frowns. “There’s nothing to meddle in. We’re friends.”

Coco clicks her tongue. “If you say so. I’m just saying, Cordelia’s side of the bed has been empty for as long as I’ve known her, and you seem to fill the space pretty well, don’t you think?”

Crossing her arms around herself, Misty shrinks inwardly. Despite Coco’s calming demeanor, she feels exposed. Unnecessarily put on display for the world to see. Of course her return would spark some discussion amongst everyone, but Coco seemingly knows more than she’s letting on. It’s frustrating and hard to unpack, but also, everything about Cordelia is hard to decode. “I don’t know what to tell you, Coco. She’s my best friend, and it will never be anything more. She let me sleep there so I wouldn’t have any nightmares.”

“You’re really telling me you have no feelings for her?”

Suddenly, the room feels too hot. The pressure in the air drops, and Misty is fighting back the urge to run screaming from the store. Coco is asking of her what Misty will only allow herself to think about in short increments. Thinking about feeling anything for Cordelia almost feels wrong, because it has to be impossible to love someone that much without their physical touch for so long. Let alone the possibility that Cordelia could ever feel the same. Not in her wildest dreams could Misty imagine such a thing.

“I don’t know, Coco,” she chokes, “I really don’t.” Fighting back the urge to cry, Misty dumps half the shelf of pop-tarts into the cart.

Coco stops her erratic movements with a gentle touch, forcing her to fold into an embrace that actually makes Misty begin crying. Being here in a brightly lit grocery store aisle and sobbing almost feels like hitting rock bottom. Almost. Coco rubs her back while Misty sobs into her shoulder, the touch feeling like such a relief. Cordelia’s hugs feel like home and messy, chaotic feelings, so this feels really nice. There’s no extra emotion attached to it, so Misty melts into it and allows herself to be held. Raw emotion that had been building and building finally comes to a breaking point, ruining Coco’s expensive looking blouse and equally as expensive blow-out.

“I’m sorry,” she breathes, clutching Coco’s shoulder like she’ll pull away.

“It’s okay baby, you let it out.” Rubbing soothing circles, she keeps her voice low and calm. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, yeah? I just think you and Cordelia need to work out whatever this thing is. Maybe not today, or the next week, but don’t let those feelings sit and simmer, okay?”

Misty pulls back from the hug and nods, swiping snotty tears away. Out of nowhere, Coco produces a box of tissues from her purse. Winking, she confides, “Don’t tell anyone I swiped these. $4.99 for some tissues? A fucking joke.”

Laughing, Misty returns to the cart and fills it with everything she missed most. 

  
On the ride home, Coco plays Misty a playlist of songs that Cordelia had made while she was gone. Composed of all Misty’s favorites and some refreshing new ones, Misty fights back the uncontrollable urge to cry again today. This sense of normalcy is exactly what she needs - the windows down with music blasting, the feel of sun on her pale skin, humming along to the songs. It helps her forget the past, if only for a minute. It also helps her forget that she is in love with Cordelia. 

Only a little.

After struggling to get the bags of groceries inside the door, Coco shooed her away from helping put them away. _You’ve done enough_ , she claims, and Misty does not argue. She is tired, wants to fall into Cordelia’s bed and melt into the mattress for the next twelve hours. Instead, she finds herself being pulled into another embrace from Queenie.

“I missed you, swampy,” she exclaims, “Been quiet as fuck ‘round here without your weird music.”

Misty’s fingers twitch. “My music is not weird,” she mumbles, still finding herself grinning against Queenie’s shoulder.

“Whatever you say.”

“Hey, you seen Delia around?”

Queenie snorts, an all-knowing look painted across her face. “Home girl’s out in the garden. Don’t be gettin’ frisky out there with the plants, aight?”

Misty flips her off.

Outside, she kicks off her shoes and buries her toes in the soil, feeling deeply rooted to earth. If she were being honest with herself, she only missed two things. Feeling the dirt beneath her feet and Cordelia’s longing glances. There may be some correlation there, since they both fill her with unmistakable comfort, but that’s something to unpack for a later day. 

Following the sounds of gardening tools, Misty trails slowly along the side of the house until she finds Cordelia. On her knees, with her hair falling around her cheekbones in the most beautiful way, she looks like all of Misty’s dreams come true. It renders her speechless for a moment, but then Cordelia is sitting up and swiping off her brow, surprised to see Misty staring at her.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Misty fidgets with the hem of her shirt.

“How was the store? I know Coco can be a lot.”

“Nah, she was fine. I really like her.”

“Oh,” Cordelia says, looking down at the plant clippings in her lap. “Well, that’s good.”

Dropping to her knees, she asks, “Need any help?”

“Sure, these ivy vines seem to multiply every time I blink.”

Misty takes the extra pair of sheers, nudging Cordelia with her shoulder. “Woulda thought the fancy supreme had people to do this for her.”

“I like doing it myself. Feeling the life running through the plants, you know?”

Misty hums her agreement.

Working in silent tandem for a while, stealing glances when the other isn’t looking, the two work to rid the side of the house of ivy. Halfway through, Misty gathers enough courage to ask, “Delia, can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

“Why’d you let me sleep in ya bed last night? Not that I’m ungrateful, it’s just -”

“A little uncommon?”

“Yeah.”

Cordelia shrugs. “I just wanted you to feel safe, that’s all. I’m sorry if I made you feel forced, or uncomfortable, or -“

“No,” Misty stops her with a hand on her thigh, ignoring the thrill that ravages her body in the wake of the touch. “I didn’t feel any a’ those things.”

Eyeing her warily for a moment, Cordelia relents. “Okay. I am sorry, though.”

“Would you do that for any of the other girls?”

“Probably not,” Cordelia admits.

“It felt nice, Delia. I didn’t wanna be alone after that. You didn’t do anythin’ wrong, stop beating yourself up.” 

Misty knows Cordelia better than she knows herself. She can tell Cordelia already regrets the choices she’s made in the last twelve hours, despite the minimal contact they’ve had together. It makes her insides hurt.

“I will, I promise.” 

The problem is - Cordelia does not feel worthy of forgiveness or the idea that everything is okay now. She is still stuck in self-purgatory, paying for the sins of her past.

They work for a little while longer in perfect harmony, until Misty sits up on hind legs and grunts her disapproval. “This shit ain’t workin’. We need a break.”

Cordelia chuckles, spreading dirt across her cheek when she wipes the sheen of sweat away. Even with messy hair and mud everywhere, she is still the most beautiful thing Misty has ever seen in her life. 

“Coco made lemonade yesterday, we could have some of that and sit on the porch. No promises there isn’t vodka in it, though.”

Misty wriggles her eyebrows in amusement. “I’d say we deserve a little, don’t ya think?”

  
Fifteen minutes and two glasses later, they found out the lemonade did, in fact, contain vodka. A lot of it.

Already feeling loose and less tense, Cordelia sits cross legged on the porch swing and allows her knee to knock into Misty’s. The connection is brief, innocent, but they both look at each other and speak silent words within that gaze. Combinations of _I love you, please kiss me_ , and _I missed you so much_.

(They don’t say any of these things. At this rate, they never will.)

Lifting her head with some difficulty, Misty pokes Cordelia square in the chest and squints. “I heard you missed me.”

Cordelia blanks for a minute. How does she tell Misty that she didn’t just miss her - but that her body physically ached for her every day? That she nearly went mental after Misty disappeared in her arms and had to be sedated for several weeks after? How her own personal world ended, but the world around her kept bustling on?

It’s very hard to put that into words.

“I think,” she says slowly, “I underestimated how much I really would miss you. It hurt, Misty. It still hurts.” 

Putting her head back and closing her eyes, Cordelia feels Misty intertwine their fingers again. Holding onto her feels like tethering herself to this planet, because otherwise she would float away to the celestial place where Misty belongs. The world around them, with its people and places, does not deserve Misty. No one deserves her. She belongs in a kingdom of Gods and Goddesses.

“I’m still scared,” Misty says simply.

“I know,” Cordelia says, repeats, “I know.”

_Tell me what you’re scared of, so I can rid the world of it in the blink of an eye._

“I feel okay with you. Being around you, it makes me feel safe.”

“I will never let anything like that happen to you again. I swear it.”

Misty’s chin wobbles, her lips all pink and pretty and so kissable. “You promise?”

“On my life.”

“Well gosh, all that for lil ol’ me.”

“What was it like?” Cordelia winces, quickly backtracking, “You don’t have to tell me, I’m sorry.”

“You gotta stop apologizin’ for this shit, Delia. It’s okay.”

Cordelia opens her mouth to apologize again, catching herself. “Alright.” (How does she say that there wasn’t a second that went by where she didn’t blame herself for this - that she tried in vain every hour of the day to bring her home. There will always be that need to apologize.)

“It was cold,” Misty starts, “real fuckin’ cold. You would think Hell is hotter than the devil’s ass but it ain’t. That’s the first thing I felt.”

Cordelia feels herself grow rigid with improperly dealt with emotion. She’s been up here living in the lap of luxury while Misty was busy rotting away. It makes her feel selfish and desperate for the justice Misty deserves. Whatever Misty wants, she’ll have. No matter how big or how small, Cordelia will get it for her.

“And it was dark, y’know? I mean the room was lit up, but the atmosphere, it was coated in such deep rooted anger. I could feel how lost n’ upset everyone was.”

Out of nowhere, a tear rolls down Cordelia’s cheek, followed by another, then another. Soon, she is fully hunched over with sobs, being comforted by the person that should be crying herself. Pawing for Misty, she cries, “I shouldn’t even be crying, you’re the one who lived through that filth. I’m sorry.”

Misty gently lifts Cordelia’s head in her palms. “What did I say about apologizing?” Gently, she swipes away wet tears with her thumbs. The eye contact is revolutionary. It brings the biggest sense of peace within, evoked from years of yearning and pining. Brushing that thumb tenderly across Cordelia’s top lip, which quivers under the touch, Misty is about to lean in when Cordelia pulls away.

“You’re right. I’ll stop. Anyway, let’s talk about something else.”

“Like what?”

“Anything. Tell me what you’re most excited about now that you’re home.”

There’s that word again. Falling from Cordelia’s lips, _home_ sounds like what Misty’s been aching for her whole life.

“The food,” Misty laughs, “but also Stevie, our greenhouse, a comfy bed. The basics.” Taking a deep breath, she meets Cordelia’s eyes. “And I’m excited to be with you.”

“Not the other girls?” It’s selfish of her to ask, but Cordelia needs to know for the sake of her own well-being.

“Nope.”

The uncharted territory they’ve just stepped into has no backtrack button. This confirms they’re both on the same page - maybe lightyears apart, but the same page nonetheless. The question is, who will make the first move? Cordelia is afraid of reaching out and getting burnt; Misty afraid of being touched and disappearing like a mirage.

“What was it like without me? After you became the supreme, I mean.”

“Lonely,” Cordelia deadpans. “I suddenly had all these people surrounding me, but no one that I actually needed. Does that make sense?”

“I know the feeling.”

“What I’m trying to say, Mist, is that I think I need you.”

If Misty weren’t gently swinging them back and forth, she’d believe the world just fell from below her feet. Cordelia’s confession sends a rush of emotion that sweeps over every inch of her skin, from the tips of her toes to the messy hair on her head. Forcing herself to look at Cordelia’s radiant face, her flawless porcelain skin, and those perfect eyes, Misty searches for any sign of dishonesty.

“I’m scared,” Misty says for the second time, and Cordelia’s heart breaks.

“I know, I don’t want to overwhelm you. That’s not what I’d ever desire. I don’t expect you to feel the need to do anything but heal now.”

“No, Cordelia, I’m scared of being near you. Or, or - touching you. Jesus, even lookin’ at you makes me nervous.”

Cordelia trembles before breaking into full blown shudders. “Why?”

“Because, Delia, every time I do, I fall more in love with you. That’s what scares me. I’m in way over my fuckin’ head here.”

Blinking back fat tears, Cordelia lifts her head. “You’re what?”

“You are the only thing I thought ‘bout down there. I couldn’t bring myself to focus on anything else.”

“You love me?”

“You don’t have to say it back, or say anythin’ at all really,” Misty brings her knees to her chest and folds herself inwards, burying her face away from Cordelia when she falls silent. 

“Misty, you don’t understand, I -”

“It’s fine, I understand plenty. Don’t worry about it.”

“No,” Cordelia says viciously. “I love you, but _I’m_ scared. What if I hurt you? What if something happens and I’m not there? What if I lose you again? I cannot be that selfish with you. I will not derail your healing process.”

Misty opens her mouth to scream _hurt me, please_ , but it’s hard to speak. There is so much wrong with what Cordelia said. Misty knows, with everything in her, that Cordelia could never do anything than make her feel loved every moment of the day. From the second dawn breaks, through the night, and into the next morning, Cordelia will make her feel safe, blanketed in nothing but sickeningly sweet happiness.

Nudging Cordelia’s thigh with her foot, Misty asks, ( _pleads_ ), “Be selfish with me.”

Cordelia goes to refuse, to put some distance between them, but Misty places a palm on her chin and tells her, “I know what I’m asking for.”

Her eyes shut in fear of being blinded by Misty’s radiance, Cordelia wonders, “What if I’m not enough?”

Shrugging one shoulder, feeling weightless with love, Misty answers, “Only one way to find out.”

And then - explosions of color burst behind her eyelids as Cordelia purposefully presses against her and kisses her. Misty has had her fair share of first kisses, some she liked and some she’d love to forget, but they don’t hold a candle to this. Cordelia holds her delicately in her arms as if she is a wounded butterfly, but Misty wants her to hold her like she means it. Swinging one leg over Cordelia’s lap, she crushes their lips together again, then another time for good measure.

Smiling into the kiss, Cordelia adjusts her grip on Misty’s waist and squeezes, just enough to leave indents in the skin for Misty to admire later on. And to be marked by Cordelia in such a way erases her brain of every negative thought and emotion. Maybe it’s rushed, and maybe Misty does need time to heal, but she thinks with Cordelia she can conquer all.

“I love you,” Misty whispers, peppering kisses all over Cordelia’s face, leaving chapstick remnants like marks of love in its wake. “I don’t know what that means, or how it happened, but it’s true.”

Cordelia gasps into the next kiss when Misty parts her lips with her tongue, then somehow finds the ability to reply, “I love you more than anything I could ever possibly love again.” It’s dizzying and terrifying, but also the most magnificent thing she’s ever felt. Over and over, she feels herself get swept away with the feeling of Misty sitting in her lap. It sends wave after wave of pleasure through her thin frame, but more than anything, she feels secure for once in her life. No one has ever made such an impact on her in such a short time.

Cordelia tells her this quietly, whispers a tender _you drive me crazy,_ that has Misty smiling so widely it makes her cheeks hurt.

“I want you,” Misty tells her in reply, and Cordelia cannot miss the way she grinds down in her lap just enough to start a spark between them.

Resisting the urge to take her right here on the porch swing, Cordelia pats her on the thigh and motions for her to stand. “Not here,” she says, and _not here_ means _somewhere else_ which has Misty shivering in excitement.

Taking her hand and leading her through the kitchen, they bypass Coco and Zoe, who both give Misty a thumbs-up as she passes.

It’s reckless and bold for Cordelia to lead Misty to her room and shut the door, but so is falling in love with somebody who had turned to dust in your arms. Twilight spreads its muted shades of orange and yellow across the floorboards, and Misty is momentarily at a lack of words. She looks at the bed and then back at Cordelia, feeling only complete longing to fall into it with her.

Cordelia fully enters her line of vision, making everything around the edges go hazy. She’s asking, _do you want this?_ as if Misty has ever wasted a single second not wanting it.

Using her lips against Cordelia’s warm skin, she mouths the word _yes_ , and then she is being walked to the bed and pressed down against the cool sheets. Methodically, lovingly, Cordelia crawls up and hovers over her, the smile on her face infectious and almost smug. 

Her fingers tickling Misty’s neckline, she asks again, “Do you want this?” and waits for Misty to nod hurriedly.

“I might just die without y’touch, Delia.”

“Don’t joke,” Cordelia warns, and then her mouth is leaving open mouth kisses over the fabric on her chest. Misty whines, shimmying her small body, requesting, “Take it off.”

With merciful fingers, Cordelia unbuttons Misty’s blouse, pressing kisses on every inch she reveals. Her hands shake, cruelly revealing her nervousness, but Misty clasps her hand gently over them and aides by removing the rest of the shirt. When the shirt splays out on either side of her, Cordelia’s eyes glaze over. The image of divine beauty, the beautiful, unmarred skin, has her trembling with desire. Now feral with want, Cordelia rids her of the rest of the fabric, hooking her thumbs into the elastic of her skirt. There will be time to go slow later. When Misty is left in simple cotton panties, her mouth waters.

“How do you want this?”

_Tell me, so I can do it for you every hour on the hour._

“Kinda want you up here,” Misty says sheepishly, “so I can hold you.”

“Okay,” Cordelia relents, knowing there will be plenty of hours later to bury her head between two toned thighs. She tugs the black cotton down and sighs in relief, as if they have been waiting lifetimes for this to happen. Resisting the urge to crawl down the bed, she pats Misty’s hip so she lies flat, legs spreading apart with the movement.

“You’re perfect,” Cordelia praises, “so fucking perfect.”

The unlikely curse coming from her mouth does something to Misty, igniting an even warmer pit in her stomach. “Please,” she begs, eyes frantic and lips pink and wet.

Cordelia slides up next to her, placing her head on the same pillow and breathing in her scent. Wild hair tickles her nostrils, but she is incoherent to everything but the raspy moan that leaves Misty’s lips when she touches her between legs.

Her eyes fly shut when she realizes that Misty's so _wet_ already. Cordelia glides over her easily, fingers exploring and parting her in ways Misty had never fathomed being touched. Soft swirls turn into firm pressure, finding the places that make her hips buck and jerk. When her legs begin to shake as Cordelia rubs her clit, their mouths ghost against each other, soft kisses in lieu of proper contact. Misty can’t maintain much, not with her sighs and tiny yelps of pleasure.

What does it for her is Cordelia’s body firmly pinned up against hers. The weight feels so comforting and Misty wonders briefly if this is what it feels like being so in love you could die. The unfamiliar contact makes her go crazy. Her bare nipples scrape up against Cordelia’s silk blouse, and she is coming harder than she’s ever come before. With Cordelia’s fingers on her clit, mouth on her neck, and body bearing down on hers, she comes on a silent cry, eyes screwed shut in immeasurable amounts of pleasure.

Her body thrums in the afterglow, her ribcage rising and falling with difficulty. Misty finds it hard to catch her breath, especially with Cordelia murmuring in her ear how good she feels and how gorgeous she is. When she finds the ability to use her limbs, Misty taps Cordelia’s chin and angles it up for a proper kiss. She is finally sated. Everything she wants is right here in this room.

Removing Cordelia’s hand from between her legs, Misty dangles them above her face for a moment before sucking them in her mouth. Cordelia whimpers, retrieves them, and puts them in her own mouth. Misty smirks, nuzzling her nose in Cordelia’s neck and inhaling. Up close, she smells divine. Misty will never want to smell anything else.

“Let me touch you.”

“You don’t have to.”

Shifting so that one of her thighs is pressed between Cordelia’s legs, she insists, “I wasn’t asking.”

“God,” Cordelia peels her outfit off rapidly, allowing Misty only a few seconds to admire her navy blue lingerie set before peeling that off too. When she is naked, the places of her body that touch Misty’s seem to light on fire. She is burning all over, the most pleasant thing she’s ever experienced. “Touch me then.”

Misty guides her up until she is straddling a leg, grinding down on it with haste. “Wanna see all of you,” she says impishly, and it’s fine because Cordelia cannot think of one thing she could ever deny her.

Rubbing herself back and forth atop a toned thigh, Cordelia’s hands fly to either side of Misty’s head. 

“You’re so wet,” she comments airly, watching as Cordelia’s chest moves in rhythm with the undulation of her hips. 

“You make me this way.”

Misty accepts that happily, a steady palm settling on her lower back to aid the fast pace. Cordelia’s spine arches into the perfect curve, giving Misty the perfect opportunity to stretch her neck up. Swirling one of Cordelia’s nipples with her tongue, she cruelly teases before sucking it between lips.

Tossing her head back with an uncontrollable moan, Cordelia bucks out of rhythm. Letting up the teasing, Misty slides her hand between them and takes over from where she’d been sliding up and down. Settling her knuckles comfortably between Cordelia’s legs, she pushes two fingers inside and begins thrusting, relishing in the obscene sound that follows. Her palm rubs delicious contact over her clit, making Cordelia chant Misty’s name like some sort of prayer.

If Misty were a deity, she’d be the one Cordelia gets on her knees everyday for.

Cordelia paws for the hand still holding her waist, threading their fingers together to form an extra layer of connection. She is so overwhelmed with love that she needs this grip to anchor herself to this bed. 

“You feel, oh, _fuck_ , you feel so _good_.”

Misty drags her bottom lip between teeth, wondering how it’s possible to be so insanely perfect while simultaneously at your most vulnerable. It makes her chest hurt, watching Cordelia be so open with her. Only her.

Coming without warning, Cordelia freezes before collapsing atop Misty’s chest, her body writhing and shaking out of control. It takes her a good minute to even her breathing, Misty’s fingers still settled deep inside her where they belong. When she feels able enough to move, she swings her leg over and falls on her side of the bed, staring up at the ceiling with stars in her eyes.

Misty sits up on one elbow, tracing her collarbone with one brave finger. “Y’alright?”

A pained look crosses Cordelia’s face. “I’m not sure. I think you’ve ruined me.”

_You’re the only person I want doing the ruining._

Misty plasters a shit eating grin across her face, and Cordelia can’t help but mirror it. “C’mere,” she requests, and Misty falls into her arms like she’s coming home after the longest of days. Her hand traces circles on Misty’s bare upper back, sending delightful little sparks of fire down her spine.

Lying here with Misty seems like a dream, the kind you believe is so real until you wake up and it’s swiftly taken from you. To make sure, Cordelia holds her tighter, debates on never letting go.

“I’m alive,” Misty says out of nowhere.

“I know. I’ve been thanking every God out there for the last twenty four hours.”

“There’s a difference between living and actually feelin’ alive. You make me believe I’m worthy of being here.”

Cordelia hopes desperately that she won’t start crying again. “I love you,” her voice is raw and full of emotion. “You make me feel so special.”

“Two peas in a pod, huh,” Misty moves her neck up to kiss Cordelia again, wondering if it’s possible to sustain herself off the taste of her lips.

“That’s us.”

In the late hours, when Cordelia explores Misty’s body with her mouth and tongue, mapping every freckle and scar, she finds herself crying again. For this warm body underneath her, she would cast oceans aside, could send civilizations crumbling to dust with the flick of a finger. Maybe that makes her insane, but with Misty in her bed and most definitely in her heart, it’s awfully hard to consider doing anything else. Never in a million years could she begin to fathom what kind of saint she’d been in her past life to deserve this. Telling herself that perhaps she deserves this for once, she kisses Misty until their eyes close against their will and they both succumb to sleep, holding onto each other with firm grasps and smiles on their faces.

And for the first time in one year, six months, and four days, they both feel whole again.

**Author's Note:**

> everyone say thank u amanda for the prompt. this is the ONLY time misty would be a bottom, come fight me on it
> 
> y'all know where 2 find me


End file.
